Monday, November 23, 2009
All about pee.
Yerknow I was thinking while taking my shower, that we [as Australians] have a lot of meanings to the word piss besides the taking of one.
Piss OFF before I punch yer head in…a direction when angered.
Oh piss off, yer takin the piss!…disbelief at a tall story.
Taking the piss…making fun of.
Piss on you!…insult.
Drinking the piss at a piss-up…drinking beer/alcohol at a party.
It was a right pisser…a let down.
She was pissy…bit tipsy from the alcohol.
She was pissy…bit angry, possibly because all the alcohol has been drunk.
Piss’d me pants…either laughing or from fright.
Pissed off…as in left or an angry state of mind.
Which brings me to...
Hands up who takes a pee in the shower?Labels: Heh. Educating The Unlucky Bastids, Toejam
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
5:10 pm ::
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Thursday, October 29, 2009
Now is the winter of my discontent.
I just realized a positive with it coming into *piss, bitch and moan* Winter.
The LittleFatBastid gets into I AM Hunter mode and is gone a lot.
This year he is better set-up for it, with a new kit of knives and saws. No. Not used for the killing. Yeah. Haha I can picture the FatBastid leaping out from behind a bush in camouflage face paint with knife thrust high in the air as he leaps onto startled passing deer. He may look like a caveman but he has not the agility of one. Now the grunts he has down pat.
Now he has a blind. He can sit and sit and sit, oh and still sitting, then shoot future suppers in sheltered comfort. He’s getting older, the snow, ice and rain affects his bones now. You’d think with all that extra natural insulation the FatBastid would be immune to it all uh.
I’m still amazed that people can be shocked or even offended with the loving term I use for my husband. But he IS Little, Fat and technically he IS a Bastard. Always find it funny, when those same one’s don’t bat an eye at their own use of the term motherfucker.
I know that I AM in KinFucky. But really. That happens more further south. ArHaHaHaaa.
Talking of relations…in both family and biblical sense. There’s this one resident in the nursing home that I just can’t bloody take to.
I dunno if its her squeaky little voice.
Her needy little ways.
Her big bulgy eyes that continually chase each other from side to side.
Or if it’s her fetid morning, noon and night breath.
I just can’t take to her. I have tried. She’s been there for a year or so now.
When she moved into the home, her homemade dresses also came to live. I have NEVER. EVER. seen such ugly-arsed dresses. They are all in the same style. About six or seven of them. In various colors with a mainstay of black throughout them all. A big wide length of material sprouts from the side seams, supposed to end up in a bow tied at the back. Yeah maybe when she didn’t weigh 250 pounds that may have worked. She’s a bit of a heifer now. I believe the dresses were patterned from one of the outfits out of a kewpie dolls wardrobe.
After first seeing one, I asked my boss if her family did not like her. Dressing her so.
Thus she is now known as MissKD.
MissKD came from a home life of having her poor semi-crippled mother at her beck, fetch and call. The crippled part is the reason we have MissKD at the home in the first place. The mum went into hospital for an operation and rest of the family could not care for. Or didn’t want to. I know which one it’d be if she were my sister. When the mum came out, I believe they discovered life wasn’t so bad, what with being out from under the thumb of slavedom and decided MissKD could remain where she bloodywell was.
You can tell she is used to being the only one needful. Having had numerous people doing tasks for her, she is unused to the living amongst 29 [on her wing] other people who are just as needful of another ones care. I hate seeing her “stuff” come down to the laundry. I know that she’ll be continually nagging everyone, me included until “whatever” is returned. Normally I wouldn’t give a rats-arse about her bugging the aides…yeah, sit on that call-light MissKD…but they in turn start bugging me about them.
The mother, father and a who-seems-to-be-normal-sister visit MissKD just about every day. The father and the who-seems-to-be-normal-sister take turns. But the mother. Always there. I quite like the family. They seem like just poor, good hearted simple folk. They just accidentally created and nurtured a fucking she-bitch of a monster.
After a few days of the laundry staff copping MissKD’s continual questions…
Apos are you working tonight? I could sense she was about to launch into instructions about how to wash and hang her dress. I cut her off with a…Well, no MissD I am here now, I work days mostly. Thelma is on tonight.
And her demands…
I only want Do-It-All-Dottie to do my dresses -- that was in a note left for my boss aided and abetted by Do-It-All, who had written it.
I finally got a tad snippy with her. She had made a big song and dance about “oh they came back” followed by a big fat happy sigh. TWICE…Well yes MissKD, of course “they came back”. Nobody else would lay claim to these dresses. We ALL know who owns them.
What I had time to edit was…Well Fuck yes “they came back” you bulgy-eyed-troll-doll. Nobody else in their right fucking mind would want to wear such ugly-arsed dresses. Hideous bloody things they are.
Yeah. I just can’t take to her.Labels: Toejam
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8:30 pm ::
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Thursday, July 02, 2009
Relations and other Irritations.
You know, sometimes I want to hurt the LittleFatBastid really bad.
He annoys me so.
I know, I know. That’s relationships innit.
Luckily for him he has vacated the premises. I don’t believe the cupboard doors coulda sustained another round of closings…not quite slammed but neither gentle. Not noisy enough to risk his wrath but enough that I felt slightly, just ever so slightly better. But boy did those dishes get a good workout. I washed them bastards hard.
Ha. I get mad and do the dishes. If I’m really pissed off I clean the whitegoods…stove, microwave fridge. Fuck me ay. But its either do the dishes or unleash my no holds barred tongue on him. Yes I do have that ability to say not really what I mean always, but what I mean in the moment.
Why you little cocksuckingmotherfuckingprick…blah blah!
Yo! Feel the love uh.
Speaking of love.
I do adore my friend Alky but dammit sometimes I’m irritated by her habit of repeating herself or over-explaining things. I’m not sure if she thinks I’m like everyone else she knows, but fuckme I have the capability of remembering shit. And sometimes I’m pretty smart.
I am about to be tested.
We are going down to her brothers houseboat. Leave Sunday arvo returning the Tuesday one. Well, maybe we are going. She still has to confirm it with him. Which is something that irritated me. I thought it was a done deal. I mean I arranged to miss a day of work. A day, somebody who earns $7.50 an hour can’t really afford to miss. But she nagged me enough to the point I thought, yeah this little trip might be alright. It would get me out of this county and away from the same old scenery. A new scenery that must contain a mountain or two. After her third mention of seeing these mountains I had to tell her I have actually seen mountains before. Admittedly not this mountain. But Fuck. It’s a mountain. Move on.
Since she got fired I have seen a lot more of Alky. Like every day. Or so it seems. The blessing is she doesn’t stay overly long, just long enough to eat, piss and repeat shit I heard from her the previous visits.
Like, to remind me that I only need a set of clothes for the trip down there and the trip back and my swim togs for the day we are there. I’m not sure if she thinks I’m a prissy girl who doesn’t know how to pack for a two night stay somewhere, or, she thinks I’m rich enough to have a lot of clothes. There’s not much choice in my summer wardrobe. Shorts, tee-shirts, two pairs of ¾ sport-daks… okay now lets eliminate the ones that are holey and/or bleach stained…short, tee-shirt and the two pairs of daks. As for the swimming togs. Yeah right. I only do swimmers in the privacy of me. Cut-offs and singlet will suffice.
Or, to not smoke in her non-smoking-sister-in-laws car, if she gets to borrow it. Again, I thought it was a done deal and she was borrowing it. The non-smoking bit, I knew that soon as she said her sister-in-law didn’t smoke. See. Smart with a capital esssss.
Or, to make sure we vacuum, do dishes, make beds, turn breaker box off. Basically leave it as you find it. I was pretty sure, the brother as wealthy as he is, would not have a maid-service for his houseboat. All but the breaker box turnoff, I would think was a given yerknow.
Arrghhh but she’s a very good and generous person who means well, can be really quite fun when she isn’t repeating the same old shit. Maybe by the end of the trip I will have her trained enough to the “Bullshit Off” command to respect and not be hurt by it.Labels: My Baad Self, Toejam
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12:55 pm ::
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Saturday, June 27, 2009
Death and other cat-as-trophies.
So there’s been a few deaths lately uh.
My mother-in-law not liking to be outdone in the death, destruction and tragedy department rang to inform us that the RedHeadedStepSister’s cat had got run over.
I’m leaving the next few lines blank until I can think about a more acceptable emotion that may have washed over me in that moment. An emotion other than. WTF do I bloody care. Damn thing was a killing machine. Birds. Baby BunnyRabbits…and my fucking frogs. Well okay not technically my frogs but I like frogs so they’re all classed as mine. I much prefer the bird, bunnies and frogs to the “domesticated” feline.
We did encourage her to buy a bell for the killing machine. Encouragement was stepped up after I tied the wacking big “come and get it” bell around the cats neck…[Yes. I’m joking…thought about it tho] and a tinkly bell was purchased. It lasted around the cats neck for about a week or so. Don’t know if it came off on it’s own accord, or if it was aided and abetted by someone.
That is their excuse for not going to a birthday do for two of her grandkids.
The death of the cat.
I can’t help but think. Did the cat have a last thought?
Karmic or otherwise.Labels: Toejam
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2:34 pm ::
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Friday, March 14, 2008
I feel like I should be saying I’ve died and gone to heaven.
But fuckme wouldn’t I be lying!
That HorribleHag of a woman called Pottie has either been…a) smoking the bleach…b) sniffing the softener…Or…c) believes we are laundressers-in-arms fighting the good laundry fight or something annoyingly unifying.
Whichever one, I wish the fuck she’d stop hugging on me.
No really.
I told that HOH 420 Prancey she needs to get a directive out that no laundry staff is allowed to hug me. Especially Pottie as I am somewhat concerned that her lazy arsed ways might be catching. It’s not that I am against people hugging me [I mean, they are only human after all]…it’s just I like to actually “like” you before you do invade my personal space. Pottie I do not specifically like much.
The last two times I have crossed paths with her she has bloodywell hugged me.
Both times I have thought WTF is she hugging me for and now can someone, anyone, please stop her. I don’t care if they need to pinch her really hard to get the she-heathens grip released, just do it! If it happens again [and I have no doubt that it won’t] I am just going to start shrieking my bloody head off and hopefully the other staff will NOT think it’s just one of the Resoes having their yelling fit.
This is all much to the enjoyment of my fellow smokees, especially one of the nurses who cackles hard when I’m telling them about these horrific hugging experiences. More to the enjoyment of my mother-in-law who was fortunate enough to witness the last incident.
Speaking of work…haha as if I got anything else to talk about. Seems that’s all I get to do lately. Work. Oh. AND train two new laundressers. HaHa UnReliableJune quit. Finally. I did my best to instil good linen folding techniques, extolling the virtues of neatness to both trainees. I managed to refrain from openly threatening them if they become SloppySallies.
One is a lady of about sixty, SillySheila who on the first day of training said she can’t read very good so she’ll just hold up the name tag on the Resoes personals to match up to the names on the rooms. I just fucking looked at her and started to laugh in disbelief, mixed with a little bit of horror. Returning the personals is gunna take bloody ages for you then isn’t it, is what I told her.
I don’t think she’ll hack the laundry too well, 420 said not only was the sweat dripping off her and the laundry room covered in washing the first day she worked alone but she had to get 420 to return B-Wings personals. A task 420 wouldn’t be interested in doing every one of poor old Sheila’s shifts. That goes without saying.
The other is Dusk, in her thirties and lives close by. Bit squirrelly. But she’ll keep up with it good enough. If she forgets to do something the first time she’ll remember the second go round. Admittedly I could “help” Dusk more. Did a room plan and stuck it on the wall plus a written running list she can refer back too if needed. No use doing the same for that dear old SillySheila. She might have nothing to match the letters up to.
I had to laugh at 420’s reaction to this bit of inability to read info. She said well she signed all the forms. I’m like well yes 420 she’s gunna be able to sign her name, doesn’t mean she read the documents. Then she said that explains why SillySheila asked one of the office staff if she could take the forms home then bring them back signed the next day. Nevermind. She makes a good housekeeper. And she does.Labels: Toejam
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12:46 am ::
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Wednesday, January 30, 2008
So here I am with a spare moment up my sleeve.
With the internet gods and the LittleFatBastid willing I may just get to finish and post this.
I have settled in quite nicely at Gods Waiting Room, a little too nicely if yer asking the LittleFatOne. I have conquered not only dayshift but also nightshift personnel. HaHa. Shame I’ll have to pull the finger out and look further a field for a better job. One with benefits and more better scheduled hours. That major HOH 420 Prancey has little clue when rostering staff, unless her wish is to undermine their health. Double shifts then backing up the next day. She’s just lucky I desire the mighty American dollar.
The LittleFatBastid keeps pointing the invisible finger at a factory that sits across the railway line from the nursing home. The same one I look at every smoke and lunch break. Funny all I feel when I look across at the cold metal building is bleakness. God’s Waiting Room is full of aliveness, which is amusing, considering it’s full of old cranky people waiting to die.
It’s because of my optimism that I remain there. I’m optimistic that soon they will realise my extreme worthiness and employ me with fulltime hours. I’m working my way up to a “chat” with the Administrator about the possibility of such. I know he likes me. I make him laugh. The benefits to them making such a good move would be at least they’d have someone reliable and happy, yes admitted happiness when washing the shit out of old peoples clothes. I think it’s more that rhythmic folding of the linen. It lulls me. I am at peace.
Peace until I go upstairs to the linen closets and see the HAVOC those messy fucking aides have produced. I know they hear me muttering obscenities and death-threats and have the good sense not to come back in while I’m re-tidying up. Don’t think I haven’t thought about asking to view the tape of the surveillance cams. But I realise it might be taking it a bit far. Plus I know I couldn’t NOT pay them sloppy messy waddyathinkIamyerMOTHERS fucking bitches back.
I’m even becoming less pissy and picky at my arch nemesis dear OldLazyArsedHag Pottie. Mainly because I have been on the receiving end of worse. Worse as in HOH 420Pranceys mum Odelle. The less said about that the safer I’ll be. I mean she IS over eighty. It be like kicking yer own Granny in the guts and telling her yer an absolutely bloody useless twat, now get outta here!
The reason for Odelle coming out of retirement [she used to work there]…that SillyOldSlutLynn fell off a rolly stool a month or so back and did something to her wrist when the rest of her bulk landed on it. She’s off work and seeking compo. Then UnReliableJune’s latest drama is something to do with one of her kids, not sure exactly what it is, but she’s on some type of leave too.
Which all works into my fulltime spiel to the Administrator. Funny, I have never ever had to “sell” myself before. I feel like the spider and they’re the flies. Pottie’s the big fat annoying blowfly that won’t go away anytime soon, but I can work “around” her.
After all I have abilities and pot.Labels: Toejam
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2:32 pm ::
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Wednesday, September 12, 2007
“Hello, is LittleFatBastid there?”
Was the first thing I heard this morning, well second really, the phone ringing was the first thing. It was ThePreachers son OhDanielMyBrother wanting him to come out and play work. That’s the last I saw of my husband. I went to the loo for my morning poo [I am nothing but regular] and when I exited he was *le poouff*, gone.
What unexpected good fortune.
Haha it’s times like these that keep me sane here. Although I did say to myself…you watch that fucking UncleRussell turn up here. Already I have my door locked, ready to leap down beside my bed at the first syllable of his top of the stairs “Yer THERE?” yell.
If forced to do the above I will then *hope* I don’t sneeze or cough.
There is a chance of that as I have managed to pick up the lergy from the FatBastidOne. Not as bad as he had it, but annoying enough. Luckily, I have a sickly sister-in-law that rang in a script for antibiotics, which I am on day four of.
*takes pill now*
I am proud to say I have only surprise snotted myself once. No witnesses to it either, even better. I dunno about you, but to me that would have to be one of the most embarrassing things to do with a cold, it’s up there with the surprise cough that shoots a wad of the brown jelly outta yer mouth.
Although you do score ten points if it lands on someone you aren’t fond of.
Speaking of being not fond of. I’m not fond of this freaking internet provider, every time I see the talking ad for them I call the spokesman a bastardcocksucker. Yes it makes me feel somewhat better.
Back at work tomorrow, just in time for “Appreciation Day” for housekeepers and laundry people of the world. WTF??. Haha that cracks me up. I guess us housekeepers/laundresses are people TOO, dammit! Apparently there’s a little party between 2.30 and 3.30 tomorrow…whoohoo a whole hour. Wonder if I’ll get paid for it, as I finish at 2.30.
I feel I’m too new to get out of it [yes I tried already…hahaha] besides, sometimes I kinda like sitting back and watching my fellow co-workers, especially at partaay time. Arhaaha *cackle, snort* thinking about them partying. With the prim lipped Kerry, the wonky-eyed-not-quite-right Henry, 420 Prancey, cartoonish Pottie, AdorableDitzJune, LooseVaginalLippedLynn, my mother-in-law and me.
Anybody would think it was a RetardsAnonymous meeting with me as their leader.
Haha wonder if I could wander off and have a chouff first.Labels: LookOut. It's The LittleFatBastid, Toejam
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11:48 am ::
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Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Seems so much has happened, yet not really.
I’ve started working. Well, really I’ve started being paid for doing it. For the princely sum of seven buckeroonies an hour I get to shake the farts and other various liquidy matters, that we won’t go into just yet, outta old peoples laundry.
Yaaay ME!
Went in for an interview with the HOH Prancy, Thursday gone. After answering a list of questions; watching nearly two hours of health and hygiene related videos; reading, filling out and signing a stack of paperwork; introductions to a fuckload of the other staff working [yeah like I’d remember many of them]; verbal fire-drill with the maintenance man, I started “work” there and then. Basically just familiarising myself with the homes layout via one of the housekeepers.
Friday, I went in to be specifically trained in the laundry department, only the trainer didn’t turn up. Haha. Yep. She had quit that morning. And No not because she heard she was to be training moi in the art of LaundryBitchness. Instead, my training consisted of being periodically assaulted with instructions by the rather high-strung Prancy, every hour or so. She kept apologising for the unusual hecticness of the day [it was an absolute madhouse] and in the next breath hoping I’d still come back the next day.
Made me laugh. Takes a bit more than that to scare me off. But I guess she had reason for the repeated statement as two of her staff had resigned in the previous week. With another one [LynWithTheLooseVaginalLips, my neighbour] working out her two week notice. My weekend was spent working alongside the school senior Steph [lovely girl] and Monday with the AdorableDitzJune.
Tomorrow is my first rostered day by myself. I’m looking forward to it. What I am not exactly looking forward to is knowing that what I thought was dried snot on one of the old guys hankies is not actually mucous but the results of his daily wanking sessions. Yes, somebody needs to buy that man a box of tissues, better still, throwaway hand wipes.
Arhaaha. Sunday was the last time I’ll shake hands with that old dude. Now, I just have to pinpoint the other residents known to masturbate. Apparently there’s a few.
I did have the pleasure of having my left arse cheek cupped firmly at first, then pressure squeezed by an elderly hand. One of the aides intentionally drove her up close enough behind me in one of the wheelchair hallway traffic jams. By the time the hand had clawed it’s way to the back of my scrub top I needed the help of two aides to be released from her clenched fist.
Maybe I should get her and TheWanker together. Nothing would easily escape that grip.Labels: Toejam
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3:29 pm ::
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Wednesday, August 22, 2007
MutterBitchandMoan.
Avert yer eyes now I’m about to get slightly CatWeaselly.
Motherfucker. If I hear one more of them whining about being alone and bored, that’s why they came out to visit. I’m gunna be tempted to put my bad foot up their arse. It’s that “being bored” that gets me the most. When I’m alone I am never bored. Too rarely am I alone.
The UncleRussell is talking about dropping in later. We just saw him yesterday. He arrived in time for our dinner. I’m in my phase of tired of looking at him let alone jacked off at having to entertain/listen to him as he is eating my porkfuckingchop.
One can only take so much conversation about the SAME fucking topics that have taken place in previous visits. The one’s where he is all pussifired up, probably grind my teeth the most. It’s like he has to drop the “pussy” innuendoes and he’s not being completely rude with it. More school-boyish. Like haha pussy, pussy, pussy. I just ignore him, alas others seated around me feel they have to force a laugh for his comfort. Which only encourages him even more.
Truly, some days I sit there wondering if they can ever hear the screams that are reverberating around in my head. I’m sure they see my fists scrunch as my fingernails dig into my palms.
It’s not like I can completely ignore his visits or really anyone’s as they’ll clomp down the twelve steps into the HellandTarnation room to visit me if I don‘t answer when they yell down the stairs. I’m like fuck me dead there are four other people up there, drifting off to go do their own thing. Why can’t I. I mean, he isn’t MY Uncle. Don’t get me wrong. I like UncleRussell. In small doses and with at least a week in between his visits. I like him plenty.
People often ask if “I like it here”…six times out of ten I am tempted to ask if they mean like in the right now of my personal existence or just here in Kentucky generally.
Without FUCKING fail. I settle into doing something and someone “drops” in.
Fuck, Fuck, FAAARK.
Like just then, the red-headed-step-sister-in-law plonked on my bed as I was getting into my blog. A blog that I have no interest in any of THEM finding. It’s not like I can pleasantly say Fuck Off Now Please, she’s in the not completely right basket so it would hurt her feelings.
Instead, I wait her out only to then find I’ve been booted off the freaking internet.
Time for a smoke.Labels: Toejam
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3:45 pm ::
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Monday, April 30, 2007
Normally.
I would never apologise for not getting around to your blogs because I’m usually pretty good concerning visiting you bastids out there. Heh.
But alas I have fallen prey to the speed of my internet connection, so am spending a fair bit of time elsewhere...Forgive Me Bubbha...but I have been once again drawn to the simplistic ease of blogging.
Some will know where I refer to. Those that don’t. It don’t matter.
I will add it’s half you bastids fault BTW.
Arhaahaa...People yer killing me here; with the graphics and extra pretty shit on yer blogs.
I’m pretty patient but I ain’t THAT freaking patient.
I’m a wee bit ashamed [not really, but it sounds bloody humble] to say it gets to be a case of fuck yers I’m outta ere, before you are downloaded.
I know, I know, not pretty but there you have it.
I will *ahem* note that every now and again at least a few of you’s are blessed with a comment.
That’s after I remember that I can’t comment without logging into google [I ALWAYS type fucking goggle first...then look at it and think hmmm that not be right] or whatEVER that is.
So I head over and start the laborious process of actually logging into Blogger.
Am I there yet?
Oh lookout we have lift-off.
See you’s soon.
Even if it is only fleetingly.
Those with stat counters may smell me...you'll be aware I was there, Bitches.Labels: Toejam
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
4:54 am ::
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Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Sometimes I think I must be a fickle piece.
Oh well it happens.
I have made a holding booking for May 16th. Woot. Moving along nicely. Although I am delaying my next go at the ‘sorting’ out of my stuff.
Being a Libran it’s not the most blessed experience...decisions, decisions.
Luckily, over the years I have been gaining less and less stuff uh.Labels: Toejam
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12:42 am ::
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Friday, April 20, 2007
Use yer imagination.
And picture a fat, unfit bitch doing cartwheels and know that it is me.
Yesterday was my last day of training my replacement. Nearly got a full two weeks pay for one week. Yay me. Replacement will work out alright, she has enthusiasm and fresh ideas. Granted she’ll NEVER be another me...but then how could she be uh. Arhaaha.
Shew aye.
I’m finished with that stage in my life.
Stepping into my next.
Coolbeans.Labels: Toejam
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11:30 pm ::
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Monday, April 02, 2007
Ol' McShanon had a bleeding farm.
E I E I Ohhh.
Well, I know of one not too bright like animal waking up with a sore noggun tomorrow. Nope, not bloody me. Yer pack of cheeky bleeding sods. But a wee kangaroo, well not really wee, more medium sized it was. Well medium til it ran head first into my fucking car and pushed its neck down into it's shoulder blades, it lost a few inches doing that...Stoopid kangaroo.
Soon as I heard the bouff noise it made against the car, I thought..."Hmmm, well that's gotta bloody hurt". When I looked in the rear vision mirror it was plonked in the middle of the road trying to shake it off. Almost like they do in the cartoons. But instead of little yellow birds spinning dizzily around the cartoon roo's head, they were bloody blowflies. Eventually it got up and hopped on it's way.
It left a nice sized dent in the passenger door. But that's alright, it weren't my car. Arhaaha. I was driving my mum's. Going by the dents in it, it's had it's fair share of kangaroo kisses so I don't feel bad about it happening whilst I was driving it.
The local birds are under the impression that I run a soup kitchen for them. It's more like a bloody restaurant really. Their menu consists of seed, crushed up stale bread, dognuts and diced dogroll, all that, plus a pan of fresh water. I've got finches and wrens, magpies and kookaburras. The other day I realised that I'm aiding a disabled magpie. It has a club foot.
Today, while I was dicing up the dogroll, it came closer to me, I carried on what I was doing, pretending to ignore it but started talking to it, as you do. It seemed to be enjoying my conversation as it did this scrabble, clump hop to get closer still. Then again that might have been because it was bloody hungry. I hadn't opened the kitchen fer a few days, don't want them getting complacent and needy now, do I. Anyway, me talking, it getting closer; when it got to within a foot of me I swung around going boogerwoogerblerblah and scared the absolute kerrap out of it. Fuck I laughed. Aww maggie come back I was only playing...It did.
Had to go help me trusty volunteer Mardge, she rang me on Friday, she wanted and valued my opinion...her words, and she doesn't lie. heh...on deciding who to give an interview to, out of the eight applicants for my job. We arranged to meet Sunday after lunch. Was all hush hush like, because it's a breach of confidentiality; me seeing the resumes when I'm not on the interview panel blah blah, not important, blah.
Wasn't til I was driving in that I thought of her freaking dog Lily. It's one of those little ankle biter yappy dogs, one with a little dog complex. It comes flying and I mean flying up the path, all snappy and snarly as if it's gunna take me down at the knees. Usually when it gets to within centimetres of my legs, it then hovers a few inches off the ground, because of the gusto in which it's barking and carrying on.
Doesn't matter how often I've been there, it's always the same reaction, I don't feel bad because everyone gets the same reception from it. But, one day it's gunna put the wind up me enough, that I will instinctively lash out and dropkick it when it starts to levitate. I just hope if that ever does happen, Marge isn't home to hear her wee little dawg go boot...yarooh...splat.
Ew. Back to the Old Scrubbers tomorrow. I'm dealing with a regular twelve of the beastly things now. You would think, after three and a half years of running the Day Care I would have managed to cull a few of them out. Not to be, they've only mutated in attendance. Although it is with quiet pride I say, not one of the old beggars has carked it on me.Labels: Toejam
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
7:09 am ::
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Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Arhaaaah!
I'm IN...I'm IN...I'm IN.
Received approval Tuesday.
yeehaah...gunna be gitting meself some of that thair LittleFatBastid Hillbillie sex soon...uh huh.Labels: Bastid Lawyer/Immigration, Toejam
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
11:24 pm ::
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Sunday, March 25, 2007
Now, I dunno if its all this communing with nature bizo around me.
But I know I could live this life here at my Oldies place very bloody easily.
Pushing aside the thought of claiming Squatters Rights. Although I DO have the means to defend them...the keys to the FOG plus the key to the gun cabinet.
I think I will continue my stealth like worming into my parents good books. After all, I am someway there with the "Number 1 and Favourite Daughter" email tags. I've made up the ground I lost by introducing them to my husband the LittleFatBastid.
Heh...*cackle*
Who often makes the remark "yeah well just don't get too bloody comfortable there okay" when I tell him about my intense like for it here.
Silly Hillbillie.
As if I could not continue on with our marriage.
I believe the insurance money will convert into nice Aussie dollars when the time comes. Now I just have to get him all insured up.
And purchase some fine Kentucky land.
Heavily treed it must be.
I'll be like the Easter bunny, only my better hidden eggs will be body parts that I let the dawgs chew up.
Maybe I should get some pigs, then my threat of "yeah well, I'd feed you to tha piiigs" would be more of a concern for him.
If the LFB didn't *think* he knew me better, I know he'd be more worried.
*sigh*...Is this another instalment of the burdensome cross I must carry?!?...my goodness to my fellow man.Labels: Family and Assorted Fucktards, Toejam
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
8:29 pm ::
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Saturday, March 24, 2007
I had to go vote today.
I wasn't reaally keen on having to get ready and go into town to do so but beings as I wouldn't be reaally keen on paying the fine for not doing so. I got my arse into gear and went in there. Well eventually I got in there. No sooner had I got to the bitumen road when I had to turn around and head back up the track to the house, herding those mongrel dogs before me. Bastid things followed me. Luckily I was stopped, trying to find where the volume was on the cd player. When I heard these scuffling like sounds behind me and then two bloody dawgs came shooting down the track, past my prone car and onto the road. All Happy as Larry with themselves.
Dunno if the election officials thought I was pulling a swifty because when I said my name, they couldn't find it on the roll. Naturally I thought they were just being stupid, after all, it was the school principal and his wife doing the looking. Beings I don't particularly like him much, I was thinking he was just proving it. His stupidness.
When arhaaha I asked them to look under my married name. And there I was. Stupid married name...causes me nothun but strife.
The Mrs gave me a dirty look when she explained my options on the 3ft list of candidates. I could either put a 1 in the top part or put 1 through to 15 on the bottom part. As she said that, I laughed and said "Yeah riiight, like that's gunna happen"...that's when she shot me the look. But really she shouldn't be giving me none of them looks, I mean she's getting paid to sit there and take those type of comments.
I refrained from writing on my ballot paper bad things about her. Like...Mrs Wife of the Principal sucks fat ugly stupid balding men off. The fat ugly stupid balding man being her husband.
I have come to the conclusion that the cross that I must carry in life is my friendly and engaging personality.Labels: Toejam
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
5:53 am ::
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Tuesday, March 20, 2007
I'm a potential DogKiller.
I just know I am.
We receive mail out here on this road twice a week. In town it gets delivered five days a week. Yep no bloody mailman come rain or bloody shine is happening every day here in Australia by boyoh...Really. I always thought that was a Yank myth til I lived there.
Anyway, Friday gone I decided I would trot on down to get it AND that I would let the Dawgs accompany me. They'd like that. Yes, Yes it was really so that the possible snake/emu/goanna might be alerted by them and either slither/run on away or bite them first.
So we get to just past the second gate.
What I like to call the "Fuck Off Gate" as it has the heavier chains and bigger padlocks on it.
When we flushed out a bloody rabbit.
It took off, with Chilli in close bloody pursuit. All I kept glimpsing was this flash of red zigzagging through the heavy scrub area...going round and back and this way and that. I of course did attempt to call her back but then thought...well fuck that's pretty bloody useless doing that. So instead I stood there and thought...Daamn, the Oldies piss off and I lose one of their friggun daawgs. Oh good on me.
Eventually I just continue on to the mailbox.
When I was most of the way there, Chilli came flying down the track after me, looking all happy and shit with herself. Her and that puppy mutt would run on ahead. Sniffing. Stopping. Detouring. Running. Stopping. Sniffing. Running. Detouring.
Then, Hmm I'm thinking bet these dawgs never go nor are allowed past the FIRST gate.
When Hark as I'm thinking that; I do hear a mighty big truck a coming down the bitumen road out front.
Oh Fuck!...
Simultaneously trying to grab at the puppy mutt while frantically calling Chilli off the road that I can now see her proudly standing upon...Yeah we know none of that worked, right.
Trucks getting LOUDER. Closer.
Me thinking all sorts of bloody things...
Oh THAT'S right. NOW I get the Oldies Dogs KILLED and splattered by a bloody Big Semi.
Do I run out and try and bloody stop the truck?...nooo it's on a bit of a bend, might make him run off the road, me suddenly appearing in his way.
Do I just hope fer the bloody best and try not to hear the thud? At least I won't hear the screech before the thud. No semi is gunna try and avoid a piddly animal.
I don't know why but I turned and started to head back on up to the house. Calling them both, hoping the buggers would follow me.
I can't tell you how bloody relieved I was when a red then a blue cattle dog shot past me.
Next time.
Fuck that walking down caper. I'm driving.Labels: Toejam
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
6:14 am ::
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Saturday, March 17, 2007
I bet yer didn't know...
...that I should kick my brother in the cods for giving me one of his homemade bongs. One that he usually hides in the laundry detergent part of his cupboard. Yeacch OMO taste.
...that I like to stir up VaMi when she is outside the laundry door. She goes all schizo crazy; like happy schizo crazy. All I have to do is tell her she's "a kerrazzy daaaawg...crayzeee...CRAZY!" She gets all goofy and shit, tail thumping, turning in constant circles, shaking her bits grinning in at me...then I go into the lounge room and ignore her for a while. heh.
...I would never have a "self-composting" toilet. Truly. That thing needs some sort of bloody air freshener with it. Not mentioning the vinegar flies that like to hang around it... “Hey Mum, how often are you having to dig them flies outta yer butt?”. Or the cool updraft that goes up my slightly spread nethers when I have used it...Guess that beats having to do a handstand underneath the hand-dryer tho. I think my bloody father was supposed to change the giant crap container. As I can see the poo in it. My parents the water conservatives and potential Greenies had this fancy fandangled dry drop put in their house when they had it built. I do wonder if they regret it.
Looks like any other toilet huh...
...that my father must believe me to be his home secretary/dogsbody now.
His emails start with "Hello favourite daughter" or "Hello number 1 daughter" and ends with "Can you...blah...blaaah..."
My replies back usually start with..."Okay you're starting to annoy me now" and end with "You people need to stop asking me to do stuff".
...that sometimes I pick my nose and then wipe it on the nearest old person.
Arhaaha. No I don’t but damn that cracked my fat arse up typing it.
...that I “lost” the area that I last threw the Chilli-Dawgs fetch toy. Stoopid dog turned it’s head away when I threw it the last time. And fucked if I can remember where I was in the yard when I threw it. Which really shits me. The not remembering part. Not much is funnier [at the moment] than watching this dog take a flying leap into the bush that I had just thrown it’s toy into. You’d just see this burrowing hairy arse hanging out of the shaking bush.
Now if I had that throw toy I'd do the bush toss and snap a photo of Chilli's arse for all you dog perverts lovers out there but since we know how that is, this one will have to do.
...if I could sing I would like a voice like Taylor Danes. If I ever come back as a lesbian I'd jump her bones.
...that youse really wanted to know all this.
Sometimes I am just too bloody open and sharing...I need to stop that.Labels: Habits Quirks TMI and, Toejam
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
6:57 pm ::
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Thursday, March 15, 2007
Heaar Yeee, Hear YE.
I am now ensconced in my parents heavenly treed and rocked property. I am Lord and Queen of all that I see.
But I've decided to still retain my common touch.
I am alpha bitch in the canine department; dog feeder, thrower of various balls and chief dog whisperer yeller...mainly when the beastly things take turns in sneaking in a long lick up the back of my legs or stepping on the back of my thong forcing me to a sudden halt, which in turn makes them collide with me, with their hanging out tongues. By the end of my reign here they will both know the meaning of the word "GAAAHH!!".
I have five...yes that's right FIVE tv channels to choose from. I need to buy a tv guide. I forget what's on the two channels I couldn't get before.
I have discovered that my mother is a serial purchaser. None of that buying in piddly amounts it's serious bulk buying all the way dudes. Fer instance I just counted 120 rolls of toilet paper out in the laundry cupboard. While exploring her walk in pantry I came across her tub of dried fruit. Mmmm dried apricots, loike fucking yum. Bleech dates. Mmmm dried plums. I ate 21 of them, yes I counted the seeds, before I thought, hmmm hold on don't you eat prunes to help yer do poo's? A couple of hours later I found that to be true. You do. By the time I have eaten my way through her dried fruit tub I will re-count those loo rolls.
Being out here, isolated can be a wee bit funny like at night. I of course keep hearing "noises". Won't stop me from sleeping tho. I figure if something were to happen it was meant too. Not like I'm gunna go and lock the doors...well not ALL of them. Just the one's closest to my bedroom. Arhaaha figure it might give me a fighting chance against the "something".
Now. YOU get to *shout*...“Eeeek RUN Apos!! Ruuuun!” at yer monitor.Labels: Heh. Educating The Unlucky Bastids, Toejam
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
8:17 pm ::
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Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Yeah! Happy 15th Birthday Heathen!
What’s the bet that I see my heathen of a son straight after school today? I’ll be very bloody surprised if I don’t, as it’s his birthday today and he knows something was sent from The States. Bastid custom people stole my fucking BBQ porkskins again. Soon as I read the sticker saying they’d checked it out, I knew my porkskins would be gone. Nice to see they didn’t make a liar out of me.
Rat PorkSkin stealing bastids...A Pox on yer private bits!
Received a call from the Brisbane Doctors office yesterday. I passed my medical with flying bloody colours. My words not hers. Should have it all back to me by Friday. Phew. Now, just gotta wait on my Police Certificate. That’s right! I get a sir-tif-fee-cat. Lookout! I might be certified.
What? What do you mean it doesn’t allow me the right to strip-search people.
I was exceptionally busy today. I liked it. Liked it more when I got it all done. I even remembered to bring home some empty boxes, bubble-wrap AND the bloody shredder, waayhey me; a true...FIGJAM moment.
Now I just have to get it all out of my car before tomorrow.
I delivered two meals to a pair of new shut-ins today. Upon entering their home I had the disturbing thought of burying them out in their backyard and start living in their house with all their “stuff”. Beautiful old house with fabulous furniture. All heavy wood with black iron. I reckon I could take the old girl. Would just need to shut her up first...yack, squeal, bloody yack yack. Her husband, Creeping Jesus would be easier done. Why, I'd just point to the sky and wait, and wait, oh and wait a tad more, for him to look where my finger was pointing, then help him gently down into the freshly dug hole.
I am currently living in a shitfight. My flats a total mess. The pile of stuff for my sister is growing every couple of hours. I’m being super harsh with myself. Super. Although I do know I will be digging through two of those “packed” boxes, reclaiming some of the stuff in them.
Just until I really-really go.
The thought is still there in the back of my mind, that I could still get knocked back at the immigration interview. I hate interviews. I believe I have only ever had like three job interviews in my whole twenty plus years in my working life. Egads. Nothing like what they can be like today. And really this interview is most important. It’s the difference between marriage and divorce.
But really, how could they knock me back.
I’ll just have to remember to blind them with my innermost charm, poise and wit. Arhaa!
"Oookay, don't mess with me now, I'm Packing".
Wonder if they'd laugh or just grunt like the Doctor did when I told him "He had the hang of it now!". He'd been trying to work one of them roll-on white-out tape duvee's on the misspelling of my middle name. Luckily I have good reading comprehension skills, unlike his bloody snooty receptionist. I love those things, been using them fer like *pause* eons *eyeroll*. I stopped myself from taking it out of his hand and showing him just how it's bloody done. He became almost human like when my Mum entered his office to try and answer some of my medical history. She has that effect on most people. No, she wasn't much help in the questions. Heh.
Speaking of packing. Better pull the finger out and go do a few boxes.Labels: Family and Assorted Fucktards, Toejam
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
11:34 pm ::
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